Stetson

by Danielle Norman

  I followed London into the kitchen, where she grabbed several bottles of beer before leading me down a hall. She was quiet, so I was assuming her sisters still lived here and she didn’t want to wake them.

  The second I stepped into London’s bedroom, my dick was hard again, I wanted to toss her into the middle of the bed and have my way with her sweet body.

  3

  London

  Trying to ignore my conscience, which was trying to remind me that I’d never had a one-night stand before, I focused on the fact that I wanted this.

  I wanted Braden.

  I’d been caught up in this flutter of attraction from the moment that I first laid eyes on him earlier this evening, and with every second that had passed the feelings only intensified.

  Handing him a bottle of Yuengling, I snagged one for myself and twisted the top off.

  “You all right?” He looped his arm around my waist, and I found myself leaning closer and closer to him. I just liked the feel of his body next to mine, strong and gentlemanly.

  “I’m great.” I took several long sips off my bottle as I tried to slow my racing heart and give him the occasional fluttering of my eyelashes. I had no clue whether I was being flirtatious which was what I was going for or whether I looked like I had something caught in my eye. He grinned at me as his eyes flicked to my mouth for the briefest of moments. Ahhh yes, definitely flirtatious.

  I turned and sat my bottle down on my bedside table, he did the same.

  “If you don’t want this to go any further, please tell me now.” He traced his thumb along my bottom lip, but he didn’t move a muscle to take him toward my door. He just stood there.

  So, I leaned in a bit more, finally closing the distance between us until I could feel his hard cock pressed against me. “I want this, you should probably kiss me,” I murmured, and I leaned in and planted a kiss on his surprised mouth. When I pulled back, he flashed me a panty-dropping grin and claimed my mouth again. His tongue delved into my mouth, and one of his hands slid to the small of my back, drawing my body against his and sending an explosion of shivers down my spine.

  I pulled him over to my bed and collapsed, pulling him down on top of me.

  Never in a million years did I think I would be the kind of woman who would be making the first move, being the aggressor, but his mouth on mine, his skin against my own—it was more intoxicating than any of the beer I’d had this evening, and I wanted more.

  I caught his hand and led him to my breast. It was all the encouragement he needed before his hands were moving hungrily over my body. His lips moved to my neck, and I tipped my head back, inviting him to do more. The blood in my veins was boiling with desire, my body aching for him in a way it hadn’t ached for anyone in a long time. I didn’t know what specific alchemy Braden had going for him, but it seemed to mesh perfectly with mine. I slid my hand down his body until my palm cupped his steel-hard erection through his jeans.

  Holy hell.

  “I think I need you inside me right now,” I murmured into his ear, wondering where this dirty-talking demon had come from all of a sudden. Maybe she had been in me all along, waiting for an excuse to come busting out. He planted a soft kiss on my mouth, hand tracing the shape of my face, my neck, and my shoulder as he looked at me.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, eyes searching mine as his hand continued traveling down the slope of my waist, over my hips, and down my thigh.

  “Hell, yes.” I grinned, and I rolled him over so that he was underneath me and swiftly kicked off my shoes, then wiggled so I could slip my panties down my legs. I still had my dress on when I straddled him. “Please tell me you have a condom.” I planted my hands on his chest and began grinding my bareness against his jeans. His eyes had darkened with need for me, and a flutter of satisfaction rolled through me.

  “I do.” He patted my thigh, signaling for me to get up, and when I rolled over, he quickly got up and then pulled his shirt off, dropped it to the floor, and then reached into his pocket for a condom. Trying to slow my breathing, I watched as he unfastened his belt and allowed his pants to drop to the ground, then let his briefs follow. His dick sprang free, and for a second, I just wanted to stare at it. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but his dick was beautiful. I licked my lips and followed his movements as he sheathed himself and slid onto the bed next to me. Good god, the man was nothing but temptation, and I was completely unable to resist climbing on top of him.

  Braden laid back on the bed and pulled me over on top of him and then pulled my face to his, our lips locking, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth. Every breath he exhaled sent tiny shivers all over my skin. While lost in the kiss, I straddled him, his fingers softly digging into my thighs as he massaged my upper legs and moved to cup my ass. Not breaking our kiss, his fingers dug into my hips. and he squeezed. It took me a second to realize that he was trying to lift me, but when I did, I let him guide me so that he could position his cock at my entrance. Closing my eyes, I held my breath as I lowered myself onto him, and both of us let out matching groans of relief as I did so.

  He wrapped his arms around me, and I heard a zip, then felt him gathering my dress as he pulled it over my head. Feeling a little like a contortionist, I unclasped my bra and dropped it to the floor.

  “Holy fuck, you’re beautiful.” His words were little more than a growl as he wrapped both hands around my waist and began lifting me up and then letting me slide back down his long shaft. I had forgotten how good it felt to be wanted like this, to be with someone who seemed to want me and only me—the power it imbued in me, how gorgeous it made me feel. I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, moaning as one of his hands sank into the back of my hair to trap me there.

  Not that I would complain.

  The two of us were entwined like that for what felt like forever—him moving up into me, me moving down against him. We fell into a pace like we’d been built to go together this way. Our bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, our mouths a dance that didn’t misstep.

  Sweat bloomed all over my body as the pleasure started to build deep inside me, and he slowed his thrusts, going deep and long as his fingers tugged my hair a bit tighter. The cascade of sensation drew one last groan from between my lips, and finally, I pressed my forehead into his neck and let the pleasure take control of me. It wiped my brain clear, letting me fall into blissful nothingness for a moment. A few seconds later, his body tensed, a deep shudder ran across his whole system, and he found his release deep inside me.

  We slowly unfurled from each other, and he got up and disposed of the condom while I took several long, slow swallows of beer. I was too exhausted to decide if what I had just done had been a bad idea, and frankly, I didn’t care, so when I finished off my drink, I snuggled under the covers relishing in the fact that I was thoroughly satiated. I was going to turn my mind off…any moment it was going to turn off, yep, any moment now. Come on, it wasn’t as if I could take it back if I regretted it now.

  Plus, someone, even if it had only been for a few hours, had wanted me, had made me feel beautiful and desirable, and that was a decent salve for my wounds, at least for the time being.

  After a moment, the bed shifted as he climbed in next to me. I half-turned, already dozing off, and he planted a kiss on my bare shoulder.

  “Get some sleep,” he whispered. “You need it.”

  I dozed off, satisfied and with all my worries over the ranch, my sadness of Dad’s death, and the uncertainty of my future quieted.

  * * *

  My head was throbbing, the light was too damn bright, and someone had just let the University of Florida’s marching band into my house. “Oh my god, I feel like shit.”

  “You look like shit too.”

  Twisting my aching neck toward where the sound was coming from, I saw my sister Holland standing in the doorway.

  “What time is it?” I moved to sit up, which wasn’t the brightest idea since it made my stomach roll, but I needed to move the cattle and get
them to the back field. That was when I realized I was naked.

  Oh, shit.

  Braden.

  I clutched my sheet and glanced to the other side of my bed. It was empty.

  His clothes were also gone.

  When did he leave? I had no idea.

  “Why’d you wake her up? I told you to let her sleep.” Paris moved into my room and sat on the bed next to me. “Just rest, I put a bottle of water and some aspirin on your nightstand.”

  Did you drink all of these?”

  I cracked one eye open to see what in the hell Paris was talking about, shit, she was picking up several bottles of beer. I had no memory of drinking that many, but I must have. Maybe between my first and second orgasm, or was it between the second and third? Fuck.

  “Why does she get to sleep? When I come home drunk, you make me get up and then shove greasy bacon in my face.”

  I held up one hand to get Holland to shut the hell up. Just the thought of food made me want to vomit.

  “That’s because you were in the habit of coming home drunk. I’ve never seen London drunk. And besides,” Paris lowered her voice as if that would make me less likely to throw up, “greasy food is hangover food, everyone knows that.”

  “Sweetie, just sleep it off. Holland’s already fed the horses, and Wally and I moved the cattle.”

  “Thank you.” I knew that it took them longer to do their chores without my help, but I appreciated it. I grabbed one of my pillows and threw it over my face to help block the sunlight streaming in through my windows.

  “Ask her about the hot guy.”

  “I can hear you, Holland, no need for Paris to ask me, you idiot.” I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that Holland was flipping me the bird. “And stop flipping me off. And don’t stick your tongue out.”

  “Admit it, Holland, we both got your number.” Paris laughed.

  “Whatever, just tell me about the damn guy.”

  “How about we let her sleep and she can tell us when she wakes? London, Holland, and I are going to run up and get your truck, we’ll be back shortly.”

  I gave them a thumbs-up and then waited for the sound of the door to click shut before tossing the pillow aside and snatching the folded piece of paper from the far nightstand. It hadn’t been there last night, and I was willing to bet neither of my sisters had seen it.

  If they had, they would have asked me about it.

  It was little more than a torn scrap of paper, and on it were two words: I’m sorry.

  No salutation, no goodbye, no offer to see me again. Just “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for what? For leaving me without saying goodbye? Sorry for waking me and going a second round? Sorry for driving me home in the first place? What? What the hell was he sorry for?

  Staring at those words, my blood began to boil. Braden fucking McManus hadn’t changed one bit in all these years. He was still a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. Well, fuck that, he could at least have had the decency to say goodbye, thanks, you were awesome, or see you around. But noooo, he snuck out in the middle of the night. Well, the early morning like the two-bit asshole that he was...always had been.

  I crumpled the note and tossed it aside before downing two aspirin and chugging half the bottle of water. I was too pissed to go back to sleep, so I pulled on clothes and then sat on the side of my bed to pull on my cowboy boots.

  People around here called them shit-kickers. And until recently, I’d never given the name cowboy boots much thought, but this morning if someone were to ask me what I’d call them, I think that something more along the lines of, good-god-are-you-fucking-kidding-me-not-again boots. Because, let’s face it, that pretty much summed up my life.

  Our house was like a wagon wheel with the center being the living room and kitchen. The hallways broke off like spokes, taking you to different wings of the house, each of us had our own wing so, even though we lived together, we had our own privacy and space. It hadn’t always been like that. When I was little, there were just two spokes: the one to my parents’ room and the one to our rooms. Then, when we got older, Daddy decided that he needed to hear less fighting over the bathroom.

  Holland and Paris were back from getting my truck and standing in the kitchen. Holland stared at me with her arms crossed. “Well, well, look what the cat drug in.”

  “Bite me.”

  “No, thanks, I’m afraid that I might get alcohol poisoning. You gonna spill about that hot guy that brought you home?”

  “He went to school with Paris and me. He was in my class. His name is Braden Fucking—”

  “Well now, I thought that I’d make some cookies and we could take them by the sheriff’s station as a thank you. Marcus came by to check on you this morning, he said that you were with a deputy, so I’m assuming he was the one responsible for bringing you home and that he works out of the old school building.”

  “If you already knew who he was, why bother asking me?” I huffed, but she just gave me a look that told me I should have known better. “Fine. If you bake them, then you can take them. I’m not going near that man. Braden McManus is an asshole. Besides, we don’t have time to be coddling some deputy. We have work to do. I’m going to grab something to eat, and then I’ve got payroll to do.”

  “Hmmm, did you feel that way last night before he made you orgasm?” Paris giggled.

  “Shut up, don’t mention last night, it was a mistake.”

  “Wow, a mistake. Did you hear that, Paris?” Holland clapped one hand on Paris’s back. “London made a mistake and accidentally fell on some man’s dick. At least he made her happy if the noise from her room was any indication.”

  “Shut up, both of you.”

  Paris laughed. “Or was it a mistake as in you totally were unprepared and forgot to shave your legs and he was shocked that you looked like a Wooly Mammoth?”

  “If you finally shaved your legs, please tell me that you at least donated it to locks of love?” Holland giggled.

  “Shut up, both of you.”

  “Okay, okay.” Paris held up her hands in surrender. “I covered a plate of fried chicken with some aluminum foil for you; it’s in the oven.”

  “Thank you. At least I know that there is one sister worth keeping.” I blew Holland a kiss as I strode off since I intended it to be more or less a kiss-off.

  “And I’m going to go ahead and bake those cookies because I know you will change your mind. Daddy didn’t raise us to be rude, especially not to deputies, so I know it will weigh heavy on your heart if you don’t say thank you.”

  That last thing Braden would get from me was any kind of gratitude.

  Holland sided up to her. “Well played, well played, Machiavelli.”

  Machiavelli, indeed. Damn manipulator was more like it. I grabbed my plate and then headed to my office to get some work done.

  * * *

  I slipped the cheque-folio back into my desk and picked up the envelopes to hand to the guys. We paid them on the first and fifteenth of each month no matter the day. After Dad passed away, that hadn’t changed. The thing that did was the number of checks I wrote. Three of our work hands quit the day after the funeral. They had been under them assumption that we wouldn’t be able to handle the place and claimed it was a family decision. They lived paycheck to paycheck, and if something happened, it would devastate them. So, to get ahead of any failure on my and my sister’s part, they found new jobs. I understood the family reasoning, but I didn’t understand them not having faith in us. Between Paris, Holland, and I, we knew every inch of this place and how to run every damn bit of it.

  As I walked out to the great room, I hollered for my sisters, “It’s four o’clock.”

  “Duhhh, I learned how to tell time in kindergarten. I’m all grown up.” Holland never could give a simple okay or yes.

  “You don’t act like it.”

  “Sorry, I was just taking the bread out of the oven to cool while we were gone.” Paris slid her apron over head and
set it down. She already had her boots on and was ready.

  The three of us headed out to the stables.

  “Don’t look now, but it’s a knight on a white horse—”

  “More like a jackass,” Holland said, interrupting Paris.

  “Well, if you’d have let me finished, then you’d know I was going to say knight on a white horse—oh, sorry, my bad...that’s Gaston on Ryan.”

  I laughed. The three of us were totally different, but we always had agreed on one thing: our mutual dislike for Ryan Cardenas. And the problem was, Ryan wasn’t a bad guy. He just got on our nerves. He was two years older than I was and had started working here when he was seventeen. From day one, the boy had been determined to get me to go out with him. “Blahhh.”

  “Hurry up.” Paris tugged on my arm, nearly pulling it out of the socket.

  “Will you stop? You’re gonna cause a friggin’ scene. Then we’ll really come across as intelligent women able to run a farm. Way to instill confidence among the workers we have left.”

  “When will you stop caring what others think?” Holland asked from behind us.

  Ryan had ridden past while we argued and had already dismounted and was waiting for us at the stables.

  “Afternoon, ladies. Missed you this morning, London.” Ryan tipped his cowboy hat.

  “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “More like sleeping it off. That’s what you get for staying up all night with that hot guy.” Holland inched her way behind Ryan and then gave me a wide smile. She wanted to aggravate Ryan, but all it ever did was make him increase his attention.

  Ryan wasn’t bad looking. In fact, he had this rugged handsomeness about him. He kept his dirty blond hair down to his shoulders, and he would tie it back with a piece of black leather.

  “Really?” Ryan’s eyes brightened as he neared me. “Someone you’re serious about?”